


With Fire and Sword

by ivanna



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Middle Ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanna/pseuds/ivanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mag7 in the Middle Ages. Vin's life is in danger but he gets help from unexpected sources.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Fire and Sword

**Author's Note:**

> The story is inspired by “Ivanhoe”.   
> The title is borrowed from the book by Henryk Sienkiewicz. 
> 
> Many thanks to Farad for beta reading.

_South Yorkshire, England, 1194_

Vin shivered and wrapped himself in his cloak more tightly. Damn to hell this inn with its bedbugs, holey walls and leaking roof. He wished he'd spent the night in the woods. But a storm had left him no choice and forced him to seek shelter. Vin moved closer to the fireplace. He was freezing constantly since he had returned from the Holy Land to chilly England. Why had he come back here at all? Before leaving England, he had been deprived of his home. Now he was deprived not only of his home but his honor too. That was the answer to why he had come back - to wash away the shame from his name with blood. With his own blood or the blood of the Templar who framed him. 

“The Templars got the sorcerer,” Vin heard and at first he had thought that it was a figment of his imagination but then he realized that the inn’s customers really talked about the Templars. Yeomen sitting around a table and drinking ale discussed the latest news of the neighborhood.

“A slave, whom they had taken from the Holy Land, turned out to be a sorcerer. He isn’t like the other Saracens, and there is a rumor that he has the gift of healing. Of course he has – but it’s the devil’s gift. During the trial, good Christians couldn’t hear the list of his crimes, such horrible things he had done.”

“But I heard he healed crippled John.”

“It’s proof that he is a servant of the devil, isn’t it? Even the witch from the Dell couldn’t help John.”

“The Templars used him, why did they decide to hang him?”

“Because when he was ordered to take care of a wounded Templar knight, that knight died, though his wound was just a scratch. Tomorrow the infidel will be hanged near the Preceptory. Don’t want to miss it, it'll be very funny.”

“Vultures,” Vin muttured. 

 

The next morning the whole neighborhood gathered on the field near the Templar Preceptory. People hurrying to watch the execution paid no attention to the slim young knight wrapped in a worn cloak. It suited Vin just fine. Approaching the field, he looked around. On one side of the green field were seats for the noble Templars, on the opposite side was the gallows. Farther was a dense forest. Vin nodded, pleased, and took his place near the gallows. 

Soon the gate of the Preceptory opened and a cavalcade headed to the field. The Preceptor and the noble Knights Templar, in white robes, rode ahead, followed by the Templars of lower ranks and novices in black robes. Finally the convicted was shown, a tall black-skinned man. He was led to the gallows, placed on the scaffold, and a loop was put around his neck. Heralds read aloud the court's decision, but Vin didn’t listen to them. His sharp eyes peered at the dark face of the convict and he made his own judgment. The Preceptor signaled to start the execution. Floorboards fell from under the feet of the convicted and his body hung in the air on a rope. Vin spurred his horse and rushed forward. With extraordinary accuracy, he threw his spear. It cut the rope, and the convicted’s body fell down. But Vin’s timing was perfect. He was near the gallows at the right moment, grabbed the falling body, hoisted him onto his horse and raced toward the forest. His actions stunned the Templars and the crowd and bought him a few minutes. Then the Templars, who had dismounted before the execution, jumped on their horses and galloped after Vin. Vin’s horse started to slow down, carrying double weight, and the chasers were approaching the runaways. Suddenly a black-clad knight riding a black horse rushed across the path of the Templars. With a powerful strike of his spear, he dumped the front Templar. The Templar fell from his horse and hit the next rider during his fall. Riders and horses mixed, the chase became a mess. When order was restored, the kidnapper and the convicted hid in the forest and the Black Knight disappeared along with them.

 

They rode a few miles through the thick depths of the forest. The Black Knight followed the youth, getting the feeling that the youth deliberately chose the way, not wandering. Finally, the youth’s horse couldn’t run anymore, and they stopped in a clearing. The youth helped the rescued man down to the ground and he dismounted, too, then he turned to the Black Knight.

“I owe you for what you did, but it weren't wise,” the youth said with the thick Saxon accent. 

“Wisdom is the lot of those who want to die in their own beds,” the Black Knight answered. 

The youth chuckled. He threw back the hood of his cloak, allowing the spring breeze to cool his face which was hot from the hard riding, and the Black Knight was stunned by the sight before his eyes. The Black Knight had guessed that this man was young, judging by litheness of his body, and he saw now that the youth was really no more than 25 years old. His face was an amazing combination of masculinity and prettiness, a strong square jaw harmonized with soft cheeks. Though his features weren’t classic, it didn’t make his face less beautiful but individualized him. Thick brown hair created a perfect frame for the handsome face. Sun-bleached, silky strands shone like a most precious golden crown. But most amazing were the youth’s eyes. Huge, surrounded by long dark lashes, they were bright blue and sparkling brighter than a sapphire.

The Black Knight took off his helmet, exposing his head, and now it was Vin’s turn to make a gasp of amazement. No saint had the beauty of the Black Knight and even Satan didn't have such arrogance and pride in his features. The Black Knight’s golden hair shone like a halo and his full lips twisted in a smile like the Serpent. But neither arrogance nor scorn was in his eyes the color of the forest fern as the Black Knight looked at Vin. Other feelings glowed in his eyes, and Vin’s soul answered them.

“My name is Christian,” the Black Knight said, and his voice, not distorted by a helmet, was surprisingly soft.

‘You don’t look like a good Christian at all, I'd rather call you Chris,’ Vin thought.

“Alvin,” Vin named himself. 

“It means ‘elf-friend’ in Saxon, right? This name suits you, Elf, your magic is powerful.”

Vin’s cheeks flushed bright. 

“Not elf. Just a wanderer. Without a home, without a family.”

Chris caught the notes of pain in the seemingly indifferent voice. 

“One more stunt like this – and without a head too,” the rescued prisoner, who was sitting on the ground rubbing his neck, said unexpectedly.

Vin and Chris looked at him. 

“Do you understand our language?” Vin asked.

“I'm open to new knowledge.”

“You don’t look like the Saracen,” Chris noticed. “What is your name?”

“The Templars aren’t the first ones who enslaved me. My name may sound like Nathan in your language.”

“You’re free to go,” Vin said. “Maybe you can find a way back home.”

“You don’t care if I'm really a sorcerer?”

“A sorcerer or a doctor – it’s not my business if your skills help people to heal.”

“I’m not a sorcerer but not a real doctor either. I had been taught by the healers of my people, but I was caught before I finished my education. The Templars were trying to find out my knowledge, but I didn't dare trust them.”

“You are wise. Well, don’t waste time, go on.”

“No. I owe you, and I want to pay back this debt. I feel that you need help, so let me serve you.” 

“Why do I need your service, if I have no power over my own destiny?”

Chris, who had been listening attentively to their conversation, decided to intervene, “Whether you accept his service or not, we have to get out of here. Looks like you know this forest pretty well, Alvin.”

“I was born nearby and spent my childhood in these woods. But many years have passed since I left home. I've heard now this forest is teeming with robbers.”

“Robbers or the Templars – one hell. We need to go.”

“It’s extremely impolite to compare the honest British robbers with the sly Knights Templar,” an unfamiliar voice said behind Chris’ back. 

Chris quickly turned around, drawing his sword, but it was too late. They were surrounded by archers in green clothes, dozens of arrows aimed at their heads. The leader of the gang came out of the thicket into the clearing. His green clothes had an unusual design which mixed elegance and extravagance. His face was hidden under a hood. 

“Today, the forest is busier than the road to London on a fair day,” he said. “A few days like this and I’ll be a wealthy man until my death.”

“You're already a wealthy man until your death because you’ll die right now,” Chris snapped. 

“Ah, my brave knight, apparently that iron pot you wearing on your head caused heat stroke, and your vision is bleary.”

Chris opened his mouth for a sharp reply, but a light touch of Vin’s slender fingers to his forearm stopped him. The Knight who once questioned the royal will obeyed the youth. 

“You win for now, robber,” Vin said. “But don’t tempt fate - your luck can quickly turn away from you.”

The Robber’s attention shifted to Vin. He peered closely at the youth’s face and nodded to himself, then said, “Oh no, on the contrary, I think good luck is more than kind to me today. Maybe you have no gold and your horses are exhausted, but this lovely head is worth more than the Abbot’s chest.”

These words made Chris rush forward, and again Vin’s fingers stopped him.

“So you recognize me,” Vin said.

“These woods keep the memory of the bastard son of the local lord, exiled from his home.”

“Then it's not fair that you see our faces but hide yours.”

After a moment's hesitation, the robber threw back his hood, revealing brown hair, a pleasant face and sly green eyes.

“Pardon me, but it’s easy to forget exquisite manners after months of living among   
rude bumpkins,” he said. “My name is Ezra. Don’t bother with naming yourselves - I heard your conversation.”

The Robber’s name and face meant nothing to Vin but it wasn’t surprising - much water had flowed under the bridge since Vin left his homeland. 

“Speaking of manners, let me take you into my humble shelter. I'll be honored to have such noble guests. I only ask that you give me your word that you’ll not touch sharp objects because, you know, it’s so easy to cut something.”

“I would love to cut off your tongue,” Chris said.

“Alas, my hospitality doesn’t extend that far. Please, follow me.”

Ezra led them into the thick of the forest. Vin’s sharp eyes followed the footpath and noticed the way. Chris’ thoughts were occupied not by the situation in which they found themselves but by the robber’s words about his companion. Nathan kept his philosophical calmness.

They arrived at a small opening in the forest, in the centre of which grew an oak tree throwing its twisted branches in every direction. A grass throne stood under the oak-tree. Ezra set in the throne and invited his captives to take seats next, then he said to his archers, “Where is our glorious ex-Sheriff who gave us such great joy allowing us to grab him today? Bring him and his squire here.”

A few robbers disappeared and soon returned leading two men. One captive was a tall dark-haired, mustached man, the second was a short, dark-haired youth. Chris stared at the mustached man. He looked at Chris, yelled and rushed forward ignoring his guards. He ran to Chris and grabbed him, squeezing in a bear hug.

“Easy, folks will talk,” Chris grumbled, freeing himself.

“Christian, hey, you old war dog! Good to see you. How you doing? How long has it been since our last meeting? Where have you been?” 

“Where've you been, Bucklin?” Chris asked diverting the conversation away from himself.

“I was the Sheriff of this godforsaken county for a couple of years. And these rascal robbers had become so impudent that it was impossible to deal with them. This rogue Ezra is such pain in the ass. Today he ambushed and grabbed me along with this kid JD though I'm not the Sheriff anymore!”

Ezra and Vin both attentively watched this scene but they experienced different feelings. Ezra didn’t miss a light crease on Vin’s smooth forehead. Ezra’s eyes twinkled and he said, “Oh, what a touching reunion! You deeply moved me, and because I worship so strong a friendship, I’ve decided that the Sheriff should name the Knight’s ransom, and the Knight name  
the Sheriff’s. In this way you’ll evidently show how much you appreciate each other.”

“And they call me godless!” Nathan exclaimed and spat on the ground. “You don't have God in your heart at all!”

“I swear upon the grave of my sainted mother…” Ezra started to say but Bucklin interrupted him.

“Now, your mother is still alive and she is a robber like you, the only difference is she robs in the luxurious castles.” 

Ezra was going to answer but suddenly something dug into his throat and he felt he couldn’t breathe. He squinted his eyes and saw that Vin was standing behind him, putting something, a lace or a chain, around his neck. No one even noticed how or when Vin left his seat.

“A good host requires nothing for his hospitality,” Vin drawled into Ezra’s ear. “We’ll be happy to be your guests if you remember it.”

“If I remember correct, my dear Sir Alvin, you gave your word that you wouldn't touch sharp objects,” Ezra rasped.

“A lace isn’t sharp, right?” 

Ezra forced a hoarse laugh and gave a sign to his men to drop their weapons. Vin’s lips curved into a lopsided grin, but he didn't remove the lace.

“If you're such a good host, give a few coins to this stranger,” he said, pointing to Nathan.

“Oh no!” Ezra protested. “When the sanctified dead rise from their graves to receive judgment, I'll start doling out cash.”

“The dead have already risen. Did you hear what happened to Sir Aethelstane?”

“I don’t need the money of this cheater,” Nathan said. 

“Suit yourself,” Vin answered and released Ezra. 

Ezra coughed and rubbed his bruised throat.

“Don’t think you can hold us as prisoners of this forest,” Vin said. “I know how to get out of the thicket.”

“My dear Sir Alvin, your suggestions about me are absolutely wrong! In fact, I’m happy to have your glorious company which is as a healing balm after months spent in the company of rude peasants.”

“What a rascal,” Bucklin said. “Christian, let's tickle him with our knifes.” 

“No, we might need him.” 

However, Chris didn't pay much attention to Ezra. He watched Vin, who turned into the quiet modest youth again. Bucklin noticed where the look of his old friend was aimed and frowned slightly.

“How long you ride together?” he asked.

“Long enough,” Chris answered.

Meanwhile Ezra ordered his men to serve dinner and invited his guests to share a meal. Perfectly cooked meat was lavishly washed down with wine, and soon Chris, Bucklin and Ezra started a pleasant conversation. Nathan listened carefully to them and occasionally made smart comments. JD was looking at Chris as if Chris was a saint. JD had heard many stories about the Black Knight, and now he was euphoric, seeing his idol. Vin was sitting a little apart from the others; he almost didn’t take part in the conversation and barely sipped from his mug.

“If I knew you had so much fun here, Ezra, I would have joined you!” Bucklin exclaimed. “We would have organized a business in a big way - you would have taken a ransom in gold, and me in beautiful girls. Christian, do you remember how we had fun together?”

Vin quietly got up and walked away from the feasting company. His slim lithe figure wrapped in an ugly shapeless coat mixed with the evening shadows and he disappeared behind the trees. Chris put his mug down and followed him. 

Vin was sitting on the bank of the creek. He looked the embodiment of his name, but Chris doubted that elf was friendly to people. At least for Chris he was very dangerous, but Chris was happy to take this danger. Chris was sure that Vin heard his footsteps, but he didn’t turn his head toward Chris. Only when Chris sat down on the grass beside him did Vin speak, and his hoarse voice was like whisper of the wind in the leaves.

“My mother was a Saxon, and my father is a noble Norman. When my mother died, he took me into his castle and acknowledged me as his heir. Then he got married and his wife gave birth to his legitimate son. My father threw me out of his home. I took the oath of allegiance to King Richard and went to the Holy Land. When we were leaving Acre, the British squad was ambushed and captured by the Saracens. The Knights Templar's intrigues against King Richard gave us the Saracens and framed me for betrayal. I had to run because I couldn’t prove my innocence.”

“Is that why you were near the Templar Preceptory?”

“Yes. I tracked Sir Elijah from the Holy Land. Now he knows that I'm here and he will be hunting for me. If I stay with you, I bring danger to you.”

“I'm not afraid of any danger, and you’ve brought me happiness,” Chris whispered. 

He leaned forward toward Vin and kissed him lightly on his lips. Vin’s lips parted, and Chris deepened the kiss, tasting greedily the sweetness of that desired mouth. Chris's hands shot up and sank into the mass of tousled brown hair, pulling Vin closer. Vin eagerly responded to the kiss; his slender fingers ran over Chris’ chest and fell down, covering the hardened evidence of Chris’ desire. Chris groaned, freed one hand from the captivity of Vin’s hair, and repeated Vin’s gesture. They frantically unbuttoned their clothes and began to stroke each other. They continued their kiss, swallowing each other moans and the final screams when they came together. Overwhelmed by pure ecstasy, they held each other until the world stopped turning furiously and their heartbeats returned to a normal rhythm. 

“We’ve got to go back to the camp,” Chris whispered, and Vin nodded.

Chris took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped them both. They put their clothes in order, got to their feet and walked slowly to the clearing under the huge oak tree.

7777777

Chris woke at dawn. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so well, and his dreams were filled with images of the beautiful Saxon youth with bright blue eyes. What's Alvin’s body like? Chris was sure his body was no less beautiful than his face. Chris couldn’t see a lot yesterday, but Alvin’s belly was as hard as a rock and his skin was smooth as silk. These thoughts had caused discomfort in his groin, and Chris regretfully suppressed them.

Suddenly one of the robbers ran from the outpost and started to wake Ezra. Chris got up and went to them. 

“Who dares disturb my blissful sleep at this ungodly early hour?” Ezra asked, opening his eyes with exaggerated difficulty.

“Master, the Saxon left the camp before dawn. You ordered us not to touch the guests, and we let him go. But he was attacked and captured at the stone of the Druids.”

“Who attacked him?” Chris asked sharply.

“The Knight Templar and his men, Sir Knight. They ambushed him behind the stone, apparently knowing where he was going. They pierced his back with an arrow, and when he fell from his horse, they dragged him away.”

“Where?” Chris barked. His hand squeezed the hilt of his sword with such strength that his fingers turned white.

“In the Castle of Torquilstone, Sir Knight.”

“I’ll rip that castle stone by stone for every drop of Alvin's blood,” Chris swore and hurried to his horse, but Ezra’s voice stopped him.

“Wait a minute, my dear friend. The glory of the Black Knight thunders across England, but this glory can’t pierce stone walls.”

“I'll call the damned Templar to fight and make him give Alvin back.”

“Something tells me that people who shoot their foes in the back don’t respect a fair fight. They can give your young friend back to you - but in a bag.”

Chris’ pale face turned ashen. Meanwhile, Ezra continued, “We need to come up with a plan to get into the castle. The trick will be more effective than courage in this case.”

“Alvin's hurt, we don’t have much time for sitting and inventing tricks.”

Ezra's face lit up. “That's the idea! A wandering monk may want to visit the wounded, and the Templars wouldn’t dare to refuse him.”

“It's a great idea, but none of us is a monk, and I doubt that anyone here can convincingly say a prayer in Latin.”

“I dare to say you're wrong, my dear Black Knight. I can be very convincing as a monk but my talents aren’t necessary now because we have a real monk in this forest. Let’s go.”

Chris, with Bucklin, JD and Nathan who were concerned about the fate of their new acquaintance, followed Ezra. A forest path led them to a clearing resting against a rock. Here they saw a rough hut, built of the trunks of trees. A rude emblem of the holy cross was planted upright by its door. A fountain of the purest water trickled out of the rock and was received in a hollow stone. Beside this fountain were the ruins of a very small chapel. Ezra went to the door of a hut and knocked.

“Whoever you are, go to hell,” voice came from behind the door.

“And is this supposed to be a monk?” Bucklin asked. 

“Sometimes he is in a bad mood,” Ezra explained and said aloud. “Josiah, if you don’t open the door, I can forget that we’re good neighbors, and you'll have drink water from the well of St. Dunstan but not my wine.”

The door opened and a monk appeared on the threshold. This was a man as huge as a bear wearing a worn gray cassock. 

“What do you want, Ezra?” he asked in a deep voice.

“I want your help with one fun adventure.”

“Not today. I’ve seen crows in my dream.”

“What does that mean?”

“Death.” 

“ Whose?” 

“Probably mine. But today I’m not ready to die, so go your way.”

“I would gladly obey, but if you don’t help us, death will take the young man whose whole life is ahead. And who is the owner of the land where you’re hunting.”

“Is Sir Alvin back?” 

“Yes. But he may leave again, and this time to a place from which there is no return.”

“Wait a minute, don’t crack like a magpie. I'll change into forest dress, take my mace and help him.” 

“Oh no, for helping Alvin, we need you in a cassock. Come on.”

They returned to the clearing under the oak tree and began to develop a plan.

7777777

Pain heralded a return to consciousness. Vin stifled the groan ready to fall from his lips and tried to remember what happened. Before dawn, he left Ezra’s camp, went to the road and then… then he could only remember the pain shot through his body, an arrowhead sticking out of his shoulder, and falling from a horse. Vin opened his eyes slightly and looked through the veil of his long lashes where he was. In the dim light he saw stone walls and a closed door. He was in the castle, Vin realized. He listened, trying to determine the presence of someone in the room, but it seemed he was alone. Throwing away caution, he opened his eyes fully and looked around.

He was lying on a bed in a small room, and light was coming through a narrow loophole that served as a window. His captors hadn’t tied him, which was reasonable considering it wasn’t necessary - he couldn’t get up. Even a simple turn of his head caused dizziness and nausea. His right shoulder was bandaged carelessly with a strip of his own cloak, and his clothes were soaked wet with blood.

“Aw hell,” he muttered and leaned his head down on something hard that served as a pillow. There was nothing he could use as a weapon, not to mention the fact that his own weapon had disappeared. He had neither the strength nor the ability to protect himself. 

The door opened, and a knight appeared in the doorway. Vin squinted his eyes to see better and exhaled, “Elijah.”

“Nice to be remembered,” the Templar said. “I should have killed you myself there, in Acre, and not rely on the Saracens. God has graciously allowed me to correct my mistake.”

“Why didn’t you kill me in the forest?”

“The temptation to make your death appear as the result of an attack by robbers was strong, but I had decided to ask you a few questions first. Did you talk to someone about Acre?”

Vin closed his eyes defiantly, ignoring the Templar. The Templar flushed with rage and repeated, “I ask you, Saxon bastard, did you talk to someone about what happened in Acre?”

Vin was silent. 

“I made sure no one will ever believe you,” the Templar continued, “But even the Saxon bastard can find a listener if he looks as pretty as you. That Black Knight who helped you save the sorcerer, did you confide to him?”

Vin’s eyes flew open and he barked, “Don’t touch him! He doesn’t know anything!”

“Then who knows?”

“Go to hell.”

“You've got to be taught to be polite, young man,” the Templar hissed.

He went to the bed. Bending over Vin, he put his hand on the exit wound and pressed hard. Vin clenched his teeth, holding back a scream.

“Are you ready to answer?” the Templar asked.

“Damn you to hell, fat cow,” Vin rasped.

The Templar slapped Vin's face. Blood flowed from his cut lip. 

Suddenly a guard ran into the room and said something to the Templar. Through the noise in his ears, Vin could hear only “a monk” and “a shelter for the night”. 

“A monk?” the Templar said. “Very well. Bring him here, let him confess the Saxon and prepare him to meet his death.” 

The Templar and his men left, and Vin was alone again.

Followed by guards, the monk who entered the main hall looked very extraordinary, but after exchanging greetings the Templar had no doubt that man was a real servant of God. The monk said he was a hermit living near St. Dunstan’s well and now heading to the Abbey of St. Mary. He was tired of the road and asked to spend the night in the castle. The Templar showed the best hospitality and in turn asked the monk to confess the dying Saxon who was wounded by the robbers and left for dead in the forest.

“But he is out of his mind due to fever,” the Templar warned. “Don’t be surprised if his words sound strange to you.”

“I've seen too much in my lifetime to be surprised anything,” the monk answered.

The guards led him through the long corridors to the room where the dying man was lying. They unlocked and opened the massive door, and then they left, leaving a candle to the monk. The monk entered the room. Candle light drove away the darkness and the monk saw the pale youth in blood-stained clothes lying on a squalid bed. The youth opened his eyes and tried to raise his head. The monk went to the bed and said quietly, “Hold on a bit, Alvin. Help is close.”

“Who are you?” Vin rasped.

“Hermit Josiah. Don’t think you remember me, but I dandled you when your mother was alive.”

“Get out of here, Josiah.”

“I'm gone now, but will be back soon with help.”

“No, leave me here, tell Chris don't take the risk for me.”

“I'm afraid it’s too late, son.”

With these words, Josiah slipped quietly out the door. He remembered the way he was led and hurried to the front door of the castle. A couple of the guards stood here, but Josiah quickly and quietly hit their heads, deftly tied them and dragged them into a dark corner. After that, he opened the door and looked out. Dark shadows separated from the wall of the castle and hurried to the door. Josiah recognized Chris, Ezra, Bucklin, JD and Nathan, who had crossed the moat and a rampart and waited until he opened the way inside the castle. They entered the castle, and at that moment one of the Templar’s servants appeared in the hallway. Seeing the armed squad, he shouted loudly, raising the alarm. The guards of the castle and the Templar’s servants rushed to the invaders, and battle had begun. With his sword, Chris paved the way to the main hall of the castle. Bursting in there, he saw the Templar.

“Where is Alvin?” Chris shouted. “Answer me, son of a bitch!” 

“You'll never see him alive!” the Templar shouted back.

“Burn in hell!”

Chris rushed to the Templar, and their swords crossed. The opponents were equal in strength and agility, their fight was merciless, only one could come out of it alive. Gradually Chris overcame the Templar. His despair and his skills, honed over many years, helped him to crush the enemy, and the Templar fell dead, pierced by Chris’ sword. Chris pulled his sword out and rushed forward without looking at the fallen enemy. Grabbing one of the servants, he threw him on the floor and put the tip of his bloody sword to the servant’s throat. 

“Where’s the prisoner?” Chris growled. “Tell me, or I'll pierce your damn skin!”

The servant couldn't utter a word and opened silently his mouth like a fish out of water. Ezra ran into the hall, screaming as he ran, “The castle is on fire! Somebody dropped the torch on the pile of firewood under the tower! We gotta get out of here!”

“I'm not leaving without Alvin!” Chris answered.

“Under the tower! The west tower!” Josiah who heard Ezra’s words exclaimed. “Dear God, Alvin is there!”

“Everybody get out of here!" Chris ordered. "I'm going for Alvin.”

“I’ll show the way,” Josiah said, and they disappeared in the hallway filled with clouds of black smoke coming from a burning stack of firewood. 

By the time they got to the tower, the stones had become hot and acrid smoke choked them and burned their eyes. Josiah pointed to the door of the room where Vin was imprisoned. Fortunately, the door wasn’t locked after Josiah's activity earlier this evening. Chris burst into the room; he was eager and at the same time afraid to see Vin. Vin was lying lifelessly on the bed, his face was ashen, his eyes were closed. Chris froze, but then he noticed the slowly heaving of Vin’s bloodied chest. Vin was unconscious from blood loss and suffocation. Wasting no time, Chris grabbed him up and rushed out of the room. Faint groans escaped Vin’s bloodless lips, and Chris pressed the precious burden tightly to his chest.

They managed to get out of the castle before the smoke and heat turned it into a trap and gathered at a pre-agreed location at the edge of the forest. Chris carefully laid Vin on the grass and bent over him.

“Alvin,” he called and patted lightly Vin’s pale cheeks. “Alvin!”

“Let me,” Nathan said and gently but firmly pushed Chris from Vin.

Nathan quickly and deftly examined Vin. A sorcerer or not, he certainly knew what to do with the wounded. 

“How is he?” Chris asked. His voice sounded hoarse because of smoke and feelings.

“I can’t say with absolute certainty, but I think the arrow didn’t cause irreparable damage. Blood loss and fever are the main threat to his life. We need to take him to a quiet secluded place where I can help him.”

“Let's take him to my hut,” Josiah said.

“I believe I can offer something better,” Ezra intervened. “I have a shack in the forest… a humble shack for resting after labor. Of course, it isn't a luxury castle, but it is a more comfortable place for our friend than the hermit’s den or the damp ground.”

“Lead us,” Chris ordered.

He took Vin in his arms again and they followed Ezra into the depths of a forest.

 

Ezra’s humble shack was unprepossessing outside and luxurious inside. Carpets decorated the walls, a table was laden with silver and golden items.

“Robbery is a highly profitable thing, isn’t it, Ezra?” Bucklin said.

Chris didn't pay attention to this luxury. On the way there, they cut two young trees, tied a cloak between them, and put Vin on this rough stretcher. Chris didn’t allow anyone to take his place near Vin and carried the stretcher though he got burns in the castle and coughed constantly because of smoke. Bucklin carried the other end of the stretcher. When Vin was brought into Ezra’s shack, Nathan ordered, "Put him on the table".

Chris carelessly flicked off things standing on the table, then lifted Vin cautiously and laid him on the tabletop.

"Josiah", Nathan called, “I need the herbs. Not sure I remember their names correctly, but I’ll describe them to you.”

Josiah listened attentively and nodded. “They grow on the forest glades. I’ll take JD and we’ll find them quickly.”

“All right. Bucklin, boil me as much water as possible. Ezra, find me a clean cloth for a bandage. Christian, undress Alvin.”

Everybody obeyed Nathan’s orders. Chris tried to work as gently as possible, but the bloodied clothes stuck to the body, and he had to cut and tear them off. Chris’ actions reopened the wound, causing more bleeding.

“Nathan, he's bleeding!” Chris called.

“Let it be,” Nathan said approaching the table. “Blood will clean the wound of the remnants of the arrow. Turn him to his left side and hold him tight.”

Chris obeyed, and Nathan began to treat Vin’s wounds. Josiah returned, and Nathan told him to make a decoction for washing wounds with some herbs and a drink with others. 

“He has a high fever, I hope we can knock it down with those herbs,” Nathan said.

Finishing treating Vin’s wounds, Nathan wrapped his shoulder with a soft white cloth from Ezra’s stock. Chris carried Vin to a soft bed. Nathan went to him and held out a mug filled with smelly liquid.

“Try to get him to drink this,” he said to Chris.

Chris raised Vin’s head and brought the mug to his swollen, split lips.

“Alvin,” Chris called softy. “You have to drink it. Alvin, do it.”

Chris didn’t know if Vin heard him or not, but Vin’s lips parted, and he swallowed what Chris had poured into his mouth. When the mug was empty, Chris put Vin down on a pillow and straightened a blanket, covering him. Chris' hand slipped under the blanket and squeezed Vin’s slender wrist.

“Get well, Alvin,” Chris whispered. “I never let you go.”

Chris thought that he had saw the fluttering of Vin's eyelashes in response. 

“Now I’ll take care of your burns,” Nathan said, approaching the bed once again.

“I’m fine,” Chris answered.

“If you looked at yourself in that fancy mirror on the wall, you wouldn’t say so.”

“To hell with the mirror and to hell with burns. Better do something for Alvin.”

“Now he needs to rest. Every hour, he should drink this brew. Also wiping him down with cold water will help him. If all goes well, by the morning, his fever will subside.”

“If not?”

“We’ll not give him up without a fight. But don’t think about it. If you don’t want to do something with your burns, at least go and eat. I'll be here with Alvin.”

“Not hungry.”

Nathan shook his head. 

“I'll get you something to eat here.”

Chris wasn’t sure he could swallow even a bite. When Nathan left, he put his head on the bed next to Vin and fell into a heavy sleep. But an hour later he was awake again. 

Chris spent all night at Vin’s bedside. Nathan and Josiah visited him periodically, bringing the decoction and changing the water with which Chris had wiped Vin. They offered to take his place but Chris refused constantly. When the first rays of dawn entered the house through a small window, Chris felt Vin’s fever go down. Throwing back the blanket, Chris started to wipe Vin’s body again. This time the fear for Vin’s life didn’t occupy his mind, and he allowed himself to admire the view before his eyes. 

Chris dreams withered in comparison with reality. Vin's perfectly built body was gorgeous, firm and muscular, his smooth skin glowed like gold. Freckles covered his broad shoulders and Chris barely overcame the temptation to cover them with kisses. Vin's shoulders drew Chris' attention; he peered closely at them and smiled. The right shoulder was a bit lower than the left one, maybe it was why Vin had the habit of slouching under his ugly cloak. He shouldn't do it – these shoulders didn't make him less perfect. 

“Too perfect to be real,” Chris whispered. “Maybe you’re really an elf.”

As if woken by a low whisper, Vin moaned and opened his eyes. His lips trembled, and one word escaped them, "Chris."

“I’m here, Vin.”

Vin sighed contentedly, and fell into a sound sleep.

 

He slept all day. Chris worried about it, but Nathan explained that sleep was healing, and it was the best thing that Vin could do in his condition. After persistent persuasions and even threats from Bucklin, Chris finally agreed to leave his post at Vin’s bedside and he went to rest. When he entered Vin’s bedroom the next time, he was met by the look of the bright blue eyes and a hoarse, "Hey."

"Hey," Chris smiled, going to bed. "How are you?"

“Been worse.”

“I bet you know how to get into trouble.”

A lop-sided grin curled Vin’s lips. 

Chris sat on the bed and said, “Vin, the bastard Templar is dead. I had to kill him.”

A cloud darkened Vin’s eyes, but then they lightened again.

“You did what you had to. I can't clear my name if I'm dead,” Vin said with a sigh.

“I’ll help you to clear your name. But you never run away from me again.”

Vin withdrew his hand from under the blanket and gripped Chris’ forearm. Chris leaned forward and kissed his lips. Vin eagerly responded to the kiss. When Chris pulled away, Vin whispered, "Chris, I want you."

“Vin, we can’t do anything in your condition. Also anyone may enter here.”

“Now is the early morning and everyone is asleep, Nathan left me not long before you came in. Chris, please…”

Vin’s hoarse plea, his eyes shining with excitement, drove Chris crazy. He craved this body more than anything in his life, but Vin was so weak.

“Okay,” Chris whispered in Vin’s ear. “If you promise to lie still.”

“I promise.”

Chris threw back the blanket and let his eyes enjoy the sight of the perfect and excited body, then he slid down and took the evidence of Vin’s desire in his mouth. Vin bit his bottom lip, holding back a cry when wet heat enveloped him. His hips began to move involuntarily, trying to sink deeper into the wonderful mouth. Chris put his hand on one muscular thigh, stopping Vin’s movements. Vin groaned and obeyed, giving himself over to Chris' mercy. Chris had never thought that giving sucking off could be so exciting but he could barely restrain himself. Vin was on the edge too. His breath came out in harsh, heavy gasps, his hands clutched at the sheets so hard that his knuckles turned white, his head thrashed back and forth against the pillow.

“Chris… gonna… Chrisss…”

The bittersweet stream hit Chris’ throat, almost choking him, but he regained his control and milked Vin dry. Then Chris got up and looked down onto the bed. Vin was lying, panting, his eyes were closed, his skin glistened with sweat, and a satisfied Vin was no less beautiful than an excited one. Chris brought his hand to his erection, intending to jerk himself off, but Vin opened his eyes and said, “No. Wanna do the same.”

“Vin, you shouldn’t.” 

“Come to me.”

“You don’t have to get up.”

“I’ll not. Kneel down before my face.”

“Vin…”

“Hurry up.”

Chris didn’t have the strength to argue further. He knelt before Vin and brought his erection to Vin's greedy mouth. Vin’s pink tongue licked the firm flesh, then Vin pulled away and looked mischievously up at Chris.

“Damn teaser,” Chris muttered. 

But Vin wasn’t going to tease him for a long time, knowing that his strengths were limited. He took Chris’ flesh in his mouth and used all his skills to make this sucking off the best in Chris’ life.

He definitely succeeded in this. When Chris was able to recognize reality, he found himself lying, panting, on the edge of the bed next to Vin. He turned his head and eyed Vin, who looked exhausted but pleased.

“I'm starting to worry I'm too old for you,” Chris muttered. 

“Do you know what they say? Sleeping with the young makes you younger.”

“You have a sharp tongue, Alvin.”

“It's not always sharp, you already know it.” 

Chris wisely decided to stop this conversation. He got up and put his clothes in order. As soon as he finished, the door opened and Josiah looked into the room. Seeing that Vin was awake, he smiled broadly and greeted, “Good morning, son.”

“How can anyone call this ungodly early morning good?” Ezra asked as he entered the bedroom along with Josiah. Soon, all seven gathered here.

“I'm sorry, I took your bedroom, Ezra,” Vin said. “I'll try to free it as soon as possible.”

“Don’t worry, my dear Sir Alvin. I’m very happy to share my home with these nice gentlemen and, frankly, I’m in no hurry to get rid of them. Their company is much more pleasant than the company of those bumpkins with whom I had to have a business.”

“Does that mean you're making us an offer to share your business?” Bucklin asked.

“If I remember correctly, Sir Bucklin, you expressed the same idea not long ago. And I dare say, I’ll be very happy if this idea is implemented.” 

“What if we really stay in this forest?" Bucklin asked. "What do you say, Christian? I was retired from the royal service, you have nowhere to go either. For Alvin, I'm afraid, the forest is the safest place for now, and the sorcerers’ hangmen won't get Nathan here. Josiah is living here already. Only JD… You have your whole life ahead, son.” 

“I wouldn’t give up the opportunity to fight side by side with the Black Knight!” JD exclaimed, and a sad smile curled Chris' lips.

“Such a greenhorn,” Bucklin sighed. “Well, how many of us, seven? Just the Magnificent Seven.”

“Viva the Magnificent Seven!” JD yelled and his voice burst out of the shack and echoed over the forest.

END


End file.
